


many times, many ways

by brahe



Series: brahe's 2017 advent bingo [21]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Art, Baking, Bittersweet, Bonfire, Dancing, F/M, Families of Choice, Family Bonding, Fluff, Memories, Oops, Sibling Bonding, ac2017, adventchallenge, lowkey forgot about chopper, sibling relationships, space mom hera, ultra space dad kanan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 21:32:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13108929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brahe/pseuds/brahe
Summary: Ezra's laughter floats around them above the sounds of Zeb's fond grumbling, and Sabine's clapping along as she moves between them, the three of them in the moment wholeheartedly, all thoughts of rebellion and fighting tucked away for later. Kanan's smiling down at her in that way he does when he's utterly and completely in love, when it shines in his eyes and lights up his face in a way that takes her breath away every time, and she smiles back to him, pushing all of her love and contentness to him like he showed her once, a long time ago, and she can tell he senses it when he pauses their movements for just a moment to kiss her, quick and sweet, and his smile gets that much bigger.or,The Ghost crew, their holiday traditions, and the stories behind them, told in five parts.





	many times, many ways

**Author's Note:**

> Fic #100! This is a fill for the prompt "new traditions" and it kind of got out of hand. I'm super happy with how it came out, though.  
> It's crazy to think that I've got a hundred posted fics, now. I'll probably be doing something to celebrate after this challenge is done.  
> Title from the Christmas song

1.

It’s late on the _Ghost_ , most of the crew sleeping off their latest mission, and Sabine has the commons room to herself. She deposits her supplies on the table and goes about making herself a cup of tea, the motions muscle memory as she gets lost in thought.

The tea makes the room smell like spice, and it warms her from the inside as she sips at it, contemplating the things before her. There’s a stack of paper on the table, all different shades and colors. She picks up the first piece, folds it carefully into thirds, and cuts it into strips, and then the next piece and the next, until there’s three piles of colorful paper pieces on the table. She takes the top from one pile and makes it into a circle and fastening it before taking the next piece, threading it through the loop before closing it off.

She’s two-thirds of the way through the first chain when Zeb shuffles into the commons, yawning. He stops when he notices her, and he sits down across from her, watching as she attaches more loops of paper.

“What’s that?” he asks, hardly over a whisper. She holds the chain up, looks across the table at him.

“A Life Day tradition,” she says, “from my planet. Every year we make three chains.” She fiddles with one of the loops. “Each link represents someone you love who has died.”

Zeb says nothing as she completes the first strand and lays it across the table. As she begins the next, he asks,

“Why three?”

She smiles. “While you make the first chain, you think of something you learned from that person. While you make the second, you think of something you’ll remember about them. And while you make the third, you think of something you’ll miss about them.”

She fidgits with the strip of navy in her hand. “My father taught me that there’s no fight too small or too unimportant. I’ll always remember the way he smiled when he saw my mother. And I miss the way he would pick me up and spin me around in a hug, squeezing me until I almost couldn’t breathe.”

Zeb remains quiet for a moment, contemplating, says nothing when Sabine reaches up to wipe at her eyes.

"Is there enough for me?" he asks after a moment, and she looks up at him in surprise. There's a determined set to his features that she knows well, and she pushes a stack of papers toward him with a brief smile.

"Of course," she says, and then there's only the sounds of rustling paper for the next few minutes as Zeb begins his chain and Sabine works her way through her second. Sometime before Zeb finishes his first, though, they're trading stories in voices barely more than murmurs about the people they're remembering, soft laughs and sniffling noses as they talk about those they've lost.

It must be nearly morning cycle by the time they're both finished, six colorful chains much longer than the ones Sabine remembers from Life Days before, and Zeb helps her hang them up on the wall in the commons, and they stand together in the middle of the room for a while and just look at the strands, lost in memory.

 

2.

They're parked on Lothal for the night, mountains behind them and fields before them. The weather is wonderful, not too warm or too cold, and the crew spends their evening outside. Kanan and Ezra put away their lightsabers just before dinner, and they all eat around a small campfire, the setting sun turning the sky purple and orange.

It's a nice reprieve from the seemingly endless missions they've been on lately, and Hera enjoys the feeling of Kanan's arms around her waist as they sit together and watch the moon rise and the stars appear. Kanan quietly tells her the stories of the constellations as Ezra and Zeb run around their small camp chasing after Chopper, who's undoubtedly done something thick-headed again. It's comfortable and safe and it feels so much like what her home used to feel like, full of noise and laughter and love. Hera finds herself homesick in a good, happy kind of way, and when the moon's beginning its climb through the sky, she tugs Kanan up onto his feet.

"Dance with me," she says, and she's grabbing his hands in her own and spinning him around, moving them in circles around the dwindling campfire.

"What's going on?" he asks, tripping over his feet as he tries to keep up with the steps she's leading him in.

"It's a dance we used to do on my planet," she tells him. "A holiday tradition." 

Stars know how Ezra hears that, but he appears as if summoned.

"Holiday? What tradition?"

Hera spins away from Kanan and drags Ezra along instead, laughing as he clutches onto her to avoid falling down.

"Dancing!" she says, and Ezra watches her feet for a minute, timidly copying her movements, until he builds confidence and follows right along.

They're turning in smaller circles as they move around the bonfire, sometimes around each other, sometimes together, and Ezra's smiling, a big, bright smile Hera hasn't seen in a while, not since Life Day drew closer, and she knows how that feels - in this moment, she feels happier than she has in a long time, painful memories of past holidays and lost relatives forgotten as the wind blows gently against her face and her feet bounce against the ground.

Ezra spins off when they complete the next big circle, pulling Zeb up from the seat he'd taken to watch them and starting him on the dance, and Hera finds Kanan again, links their hands together and swings him along.

She can feel him watching her as they move, feel the way the perpetually tense set of his shoulder begins to fade as he learns the steps and dances with her. He pulls her closer and spins her around him, twirling her out before bringing her back in, and she laughs to the sky as she comes back against his chest, his arms twisted around her. He presses a kiss to her cheek and lets her go, resuming the regular movement of the dance, and she couldn't ask for anything more in this moment.

Ezra's laughter floats around them above the sounds of Zeb's fond grumbling, and Sabine's clapping along as she moves between them, the three of them in the moment wholeheartedly, all thoughts of rebellion and fighting tucked away for later. Kanan's smiling down at her in that way he does when he's utterly and completely in love, when it shines in his eyes and lights up his face in a way that takes her breath away every time, and she smiles back to him, pushing all of her love and contentness to him like he showed her once, a long time ago, and she can tell he senses it when he pauses their movements for just a moment to kiss her, quick and sweet, and his smile gets that much bigger. 

 

3.

They've been staked out in the mountains for two days now, as the sun starts to set over the snowy ridgeline, and the second cold night begins. Zeb's got first watch tonight, and before he relieves Kanan, he walks around the sparce mountaintop forest for some firewood.

"I'll take over now," he tells Kanan, who offers him a small smile.

"Did Hera go to bed?" Kanan asks. Zeb shrugs.

"Not sure," he tells him. "I've been out," he gestures to the small pile of wood at his feet.

"Good idea," Kanan says. "I'll help." 

"You don't have to," Zeb says, but doesn't stop Kanan from moving the logs into a bonfire. "You should get some sleep."

Kanan only shrugs. "I'll go in in a little while," he says, so Zeb drops it. He can't make Kanan go rest if he doesn't want to; hell, he understands to desire to avoid it.

Once the fire is built and lit and the wood is burning happily away, Zeb sits back. The night is clear, and the smoke from the fire disappears quickly into the thin, high altitude air. It's cool but not freezing - Zeb's fairly comfortable, though he thinks Kanan could do with a jacket.

"Why'd you really build the fire?" Kanan asks him eventually. Zeb sighs, watches the flames.

"Lasat Life Day tradition," he explains. "Got pretty cold on Lasan during this time of the year, so everyone would build bonfires outside their houses and we'd go around, visiting family and friends and eating their food and - just being happy together."

Kanan hums. "Sounds nice," he says, shifting closer to the fire.

"It was," Zeb agrees. "It's been a while since I thought about it," he admits.

"Happens to the best of us," Kanan says, and Zeb remembers hearing about all those years away from the Jedi religion.

They're silent as the moon rises, and Zeb doesn't realize how much time has passed until Ezra makes his way off the _Ghost_ and to their makeshift camp.

He levels Kanan with an raised eyebrow. "Hera won't be happy you didn't sleep," he tells him, looking around for a place to sit.

"I know," Kanan says, and pulls Ezra down next to him.

Ezra sputters for half a moment before he settles in, tucked into Kanan's side against the chill of the night.

"This is nice," Ezra says after a while, nodding towards the bonfire.

"Lasat tradition," Kanan tells him softly, squeezes his arm a little, and Ezra catches on.

"Were there ever competitions for size?" Ezra asks, and it startles a laugh from Zeb.

"Were there ever," he says. "We'd go all out. One year, my brother and I convinced my parents to compete, and we made this massive structure, and just as we were about to set it on fire, one of the neighbor's kids ran over and pulled out a load-bearing stick and the whole thing crashed to the ground. When the judges came around, all we had was a tiny fire way smaller than this one."

When Ezra looks over, there's a smile on Zeb's face, and the flickering firelight throws ever-changing shadows on his features. Ezra imagines what kid Zeb was like, what his childhood was like, and thinks that this version of him, laughing around a campfire and telling stories, is probably pretty close.

"Man, we were so mad at Nahuel, you wouldn't believe. Gave that kid hell for years after that."

He trails into silence, the cackling of the slowly dying fire the only sound around for a while.

"Thanks for sitting out with me," Zeb tells them, as the last of the logs begins to turn to ash. "We've had a rough time and we were supposed to do shifts..."

"No where else I'd rather be, buddy," Kanan says, and when Zeb looks over, both Jedi and padawan are looking at him with soft smiles. He returns their smile, for a moment so overwhelmed by how much this little ragtag family means to him, and then he's reaching out to cuff Ezra's neck, rubbing his hair the wrong way.

"Ah, Zeb, way to ruin the moment!" he pouts, paws at Zeb to get him off. Zeb laughs.

"Can't have you thinking I'm going soft," he says, reaches to tug at his ear the way his brother always did to him, and Ezra tries to bury himself further into Kanan, wiggles around until at least half of Kanan's body is between himself and Zeb.

"Never that," Kanan agrees with a smile, and stands with Ezra tucked under one arm, letting the kid go after he flails and finds his footing.

"Need help?" Kanan asks with a nod towards the smoldering ashes, and Zeb shakes his head.

"Nah, I want to stay out a little longer," he says. "Thanks, though."

Kanan nods, claps him on the shoulder, and drags Ezra back inside.

"Is he okay?" Ezra asks once they're back on the _Ghost_ , looking over his shoulder at the barely-there outline Zeb makes against the darkness.

Kanan throws an arm over Ezra's shoulders.

"Yeah," he says. "He'll be okay. We've all got some tough memories, especially this time of year."

"But, we helped though, right?"

Kanan looks at Ezra, can't help the swell of pride at how much he cares about Zeb, whether or not they get along all the time.

"Yeah, kiddo. We helped."

 

4.

It's the day before Life Day on Lothal, and Kanan is up before th sun. He wakes slowly, coming to consciousness without really meaning to, and it's not until he's fully awake does he realize why.

He dresses slowly, too, the usual clothes with the exception of a robe he hasn't taken out of the closet in a very long time, hasn't worn in longer. His lightsaber stays on the ship, along with his blaster, and his hair band. 

There's still about ten minutes to sunrise by the time he finishes, and he makes his way off the ship as quietly as he can. He knows Sabine is awake, making a cup of caf in the commons room, and he's surprised, and pleased, to find Hera is fast asleep. Zeb's soft snores drift from beyond their door when Kanan passes, and he knows Ezra's still sleeping, albeit fitfully. His sleep pattern has been a little all over the place as of late, and Kanan's been meaning to talk with him about it.

The air outside when Kanan steps off the ship is wet and cool, promising a cold day ahead. The grass is damp with dew, and the sky has begun to turn a pastel shade of purple-pink that makes Kanan think of Sabine.

He ends a few paces from the _Ghost_ , folds the robe and settles down on the ground, legs crossed in front of him. He looks to the horizon with a heavy sigh, determined. It feels like it's been a lifetime since he's done a sunrise meditation for Life Day, and in many ways, it has been. The last one he did was at the Temple all those years ago, and just about everything has changed since then.

The motions come quickly to him, though, like muscle memory. His eyes close and he takes a deep breath, and as he lets it out, he focuses on letting go something he's held on to throughout the year. He repeats the process, expelling air and the stress of the last twelve months, giving his frustration, sadness, anger over to the Force.

By the times he's finished, he can feel the warmth of the rising sun on his face, and he turns his hands so the palms face the sky. He opens his eyes, squinting a little against the brightness of the sun, and notices his company for the first time.

"How long have you been sitting there?" he asks. Sabine shrugs.

"You looked very concentrated," she says. "I didn't want to interrupt."

"It's just an old Jedi thing," he tells her. She looks at him rather calculatingly, hums noncommittally.

"Is there such a thing?" she asks eventually, and Kanan looks at her from the corner of his eye.

"Maybe not," he admits. She stays silent, waiting for him to continue. "This was part of our training," he says. "Every Life Day we would all get up for the sunrise meditation. It was part of the teachings about balance and letting your emotions go into the Force so they don't cloud your judgment." He pauses for a breath, halfway to a sigh. "I haven't done one since before the Clone Wars." 

"What changed?"

Kanan takes a moment to think about his answer. "The last few years have completely turned my life around," Kanan says. "Meeting Hera, rescuing Zeb, saving you," he tilts to nudge her should and she smiles at her hands. "And this year, finding Ezra, getting back in touch with the Force in an entirely new way...I never made it past my learning years at the Temple," he tells her. "The Order fell apart and the Empire rose to power, and that was it for me, really, until Hera and then Ezra. It just felt like the right time to do this again."

All of the colors from the sunrise have faded into the regular blue by now, and Kanan's feeling refreshed in a way he hasn't in a long time, from the meditation and from the conversation with Sabine.

"Can you teach me?" she asks, and he blinks. For half a second he thinks about telling her no, that without being Force-sensitive, it won't really work the same, but he corrects himself. The simple act of letting bad things go and remembering good things requires no special ability beyond strength of character.

So he tells her, "Of course," and begins the lesson.

 

5. 

The eve of Life Day finds Ezra in the commons kitchen. He'd gotten himself supplies on the run the day before, and he now begins the process of making cookies.

It's a rocky tradition - he has vague memories of his mother making them, of sneaking them with his father, of sharing them with both of his parents after Life Day dinner, but after they were gone, most of the time he couldn't get the ingredients together to make them. It's been a few years since he's made them, but he's got everything he needs now, and he sets to work.

"What's going on in here?" Hera asks, appearing not long after he's begun measuring and mixing. He shrugs.

"Just some baking." 

Hera comes up behind him to look over his shoulder.

"No recipe?" she says, then laughs. "Risky. I like it." 

"I memorized it," he admits. "A while ago. My mom used to make them for Life Day."

Hera drops a kiss on his forehead, but doesn't comment further on that, and he's kind of grateful, because he doesn't want to end up crying over a bowl of half-finished dough.

"Do you need any help?" Hera asks, and Ezra pauses his mixing to think about the offer before he settles on his answer.

"Actually," he says, "I'd love some." 

That's how Zeb finds them when he finally gets out of bed, well past noon. He shuffles in, makes himself a cup of caf, observes Hera and Ezra working with the dough.

"This is far too much to handle this early on my day off," he announces, and makes to leave the room.

"It's the afternoon!" Ezra shouts after him.

"Exactly!" Zeb shouts back, disappearing down the hallway.

"What are you guys yelling about now?" Sabine asks as she and Kanan make their way into the room.

"I think he's going back to bed," Ezra says. "Not my problem he'll miss out on holiday cookies." 

"Someone besides me is cooking?" Kanan says, mock surprise coloring his tone, and he gasps when he sees Hera, hand over his heart. "Stars above, you got _Hera_  to cook? Truly a day of miracles."

Hera threatens him with the spatula in her hand, but Ezra grabs it before she can do anything with it.

"I offered to assist," she tells Kanan, hands on her hips. "He's making his mom's cookies and I wanted to help out."

"She's very handy," Ezra says, looking at Kanan over his shoulder for a brief moment. "Excellent at measuring."

"I wouldn't know," Kanan says, and he takes a seat at the booth. "She never helps when I'm cooking." 

"You never want me to help," she corrects. Kanan waves his hand.

"That's irrelevant."

A timer goes off, then, and Ezra pulls out a fresh batch of cookies, perfectly browned.

They've sat on the counter for maybe three minutes before Sabine's reaching over to grab one. It's hot, crumbles a little bit in her hands, but it's delicious.

"Ezra, these are amazing," she tells him. "Wow."

She goes for another one, and Ezra whacks the back of her hand.

"Not right now," he scolds, and the scene is so familiar that for a moment he's transported back to the kitchen of his early childhood, an oven-warm kitchen and fresh cookies disappearing one by one. This, now, is similar; oven-warm kitchen and cookie thieves on the hunt, but it's different, too. It still feels like family and it still feels like home, though now family includes a Jedi Force-lifting cookies across the room and a Mandolorian snatching them out of the air, and home means an old Rebellion ship that's been through hell and back every other week and threatens to break down every time they're on the run from the Empire. Ezra smiles, and lets the _safelovedhappy_ feelings in the room wash over him. 


End file.
